Excuse me while I kiss the sky
by socksbeforeglocks
Summary: Together we can face any challenges as deep as the ocean and as high as the sky. A series of Anya/Clarke prompts and oneshots.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the 100 or its characters.**

**Prompt from Staahma on tumblr.**

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"Anya wait." There was no wait. No hesitation. Anya swung her fist wildly at Clarke. Clarke ducked and Anya swung around grunting as she through a solid punch that connected to Clarke's upper arm. She stumbled back and Anya swayed dangerously on her feet. The tranquilizer hadn't fully left her system yet. It made her movements uncoordinated and sloppy.

Clarke rushed forward and grabbed Anya's arm and uttered a brief 'Hey' before Anya shoved her to the ground. Clarke fell hard. The pebbles bit into her palms as she skidded across the ground. She turned and saw Anya stagger towards her. Sweat dripped down Clarke's brow and mixed with the crusty mud that had dried to her face. It ran down over her eyes and onto her lips. Clarke's fingers blindly reached out in front of her and grabbed a thick log that most likely been apart of the wall in camp. Well back when this place was a camp.

She clambered quickly to her feet and swung the branch wildly. Anya ducked and Clarke jabbed the branch in her direction, teeth gritted, muscles shuddering in exertion. She charged the older woman who planted her feet firmly and snatched the branch into her own hands. They pushed back and forth, grunting and gasping, neither giving an inch. Clarke shoved harder and Anya's eyes flashed. Clarke gasped as she felt the grounders foot connect with her shin. Momentarily stunned she failed to block the swift punch she received to the face that knocked her back. Anya slammed the log branch into her side and Clarke once again found herself on the ground. She watched Anya throw down the branch and stalk forward, fists clenched and jaw set.

Clarke's hands flexed outwards and brushed against the cold, smooth feeling of metal. She glanced over and saw a small knife lying within the ribcage of a charred corpse. Her stomach had no time to roll as she grabbed the knife and a hand full of dirt and threw it up at Anya. She grunted and shielded her face from the on slot, giving Clarke just enough time to scramble up to her feet. The white cloud dissipated. What had Clarke thrown? Ashes from a corpse or dirt; or perhaps it was some of both.

Clarke inched around Anya as the grounder fixed with a sharp gaze. Clarke's heart thudded and she held the small blade out in front of her. As if this would keep the fearsome woman at bay. Anya glanced momentarily down at the weapon then back up to Clarke's face. Her lips pulled back over her teeth. The smile was cold and cunning. A hunter who knew their prey was cornered. They circled.

"I don't want to kill you Anya," Clarke pleads. Pleads? Pleads for what? Mercy, a hopeful end to this fight that would probably result in her death. Anya's smile only grew more.

"Then you're the one that's going to die," replied Anya back with a certain amount of assurance. An arrogance and confidence in her warrior skills that just made something SNAP inside of Clarke. She rushed forward and jabbed the knife at that beautiful grinning face that was smeared with mud and blood. She wanted that smile gone. Anya sidestepped her and wrapped long fingers around her wrist. Clarke was surprised at how strong her grip was considering everything Anya had been subjected to. Anya struck her once, twice, before Clarke was down. Blood coated her teeth as she spit some out onto the ground. The knife was still clutched in her hand. She staggered to her feet and saw Anya smirk. Her hazel eyes appraised her as if to say 'Well done Sky Princess you can still stand'. Clarke swallowed and swung. Anya caught her arm and this time wrenched the knife free from Clarke's grasp and swung down harshly. Clarke cried out when she felt the knife slice through the skin on her forearm and then seconds later pain erupted as her stomach was similarly cut. Anya leaned back. Her free hand came up and firmly grasped Clarke's shoulder as if to steady her. Clarke looked up and was immediately met with Anya's forehead smashing into her left eye and nose with such force she was thrown to the ground onto her back, landing in a winded daze.

Clarke blindly faltered to her feet and stared Anya down. The grounder let out terrifying growl, like the sound of an enraged animal, and charged Clarke. She felt the air leave her body as strong arms wrapped around her waist and a solid broad shoulder dig into stomach before the grounder and the Sky Princess ended up sprawled out on the ground. Clarke struggled under the heavier weight of the older woman who straddled her torso and wrapped one tough hand around her throat. Anya grinned triumphantly and held the knife aloft. Clarke waited for the stab. Her blue eyes met hazel. Swimming deep within muddy green orbs was bloodlust and triumph and deeper still _respect_?

Clarke's gaze slid down to the arm pinning her down and she saw the deep, self-inflicted bite wound Anya made as she tore the Mountain Men's tracker from her body. Desperation flooded through Clarke's bloodstream as she plunges her index finger deep into the wound. Anya gives a shout of alarm and pain and reels back from Clarke, giving the younger girl just enough leeway to reach up, up, up and press her lips harshly against Anya's.

They both freeze. Clarke's breath is caught in her throat, her heart beating erratically. Her blue eyes stare into slightly glazed hazel ones. And then Anya is moving. Her fingers drop the knife and instead wind into Clarke's golden locks, pulling at the roots, pressing their lips more firmly together. Clarke squeaked in surprise as she felt Anya's rough lips move insistently against hers. She pressed her hands against Anya's shoulders and pushed her back slightly.

"Anya," Clarke gasped, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. Anya growled and surged forward, reclaiming Clarke's lips once more. Clarke felt Anya's firm body press against hers, forcing her back. Clarke swallowed and squirmed, attempting to once again dislodge the grounder, her body tingling and straining all at the same time. Her stomach flipped as she felt Anya's tongue pave a hot path across her aching lower lip. A small involuntary gasp escaped Clarke giving Anya just enough room to slip her tongue into Clarke's. Their tongues met, harshly dueling as their teeth clacked together and their lips fused as one. It took Clarke a second to realize that not only was she reciprocating the kiss, but that she was damn well enjoying it as well.

It was as raw and as powerful as Anya was. It stoked something primal within Clarke. She wanted Anya. Wanted to claim the wild woman and wanted the fearsome and animalistic grounder to claim her. That shocking revelation brought Clarke back to her senses. Well the senses she could find that weren't clouded with Anya. She bit down hard on Anya's lower lip, drawing blood. She felt the grounder pull back, a smirk pulling at her red lips and then a frown at Clarke's pensive face.

They both stared at each other. Neither spoke nor moved. The wind floated through the trees and lifted the hair on Clarke's shoulders. It rustled the leaves on the ground and stirred the long dead remains of the people who rested here.

Clarke needed to think. Collect her thoughts and rationalize how to get of her situation. Anya was still perched on her waist watching her expressions carefully. She needed to ignore the heat curled up tight in her lower stomach and the tingle of her lips.

"Anya I-."

"You fought well." Clarke blinked in surprise at Anya's statement. The grounder lifted herself up and stood towering over Clarke. Clarke swallowed and shakily stood. She didn't exactly trust her own feet. She reached out for the taller blonde, but hesitated. What could she say? 'Hey sorry I made out with you, but I was just fighting for my life. My bad.' Did it really mean nothing? Her lips were still humming, something she never experienced when she kissed Finn. Finn. Were he and Bellamy even alive? Was anyone else out there?

A shimmering glint caught her eye and she turned. There in the far distance was a white balloon, rising above the landscape signifying life.

"They're alive," Clarke breathed out. Anya turned and eyed the balloon in the distance.

"More from the Sky," The taller woman questioned.

"Yes it's the Ark. I knew they couldn't be dead. The Mountain Men lied," exclaimed Clarke excitedly. Hope rushed into her chest like a warm tide. Someone was out there. Someone who could help her and her people trapped inside Mount Weather.

A low distant crack, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, filled the air. The white beacon slowly deflated and began its slow descent back towards the ground.

"No," shouted Clarke her body lurching in the direction of the disappearing balloon. The last connection to help.

"Be quiet," hissed Anya. In an instant she was behind Clarke. A hand was clasped over her mouth while another was wrapped around her waste pulling her flush up against the grounders body. Clarke stiffened. She felt Anya's hard muscles spasm then relax. "We are not the only ones out here. There are many other dangers beside Mountain Men."

Clarke nodded and Anya released her grip on Clarke and took a step back.

Come," She beckoned, "We will find your fallen Sky people."

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The night had set upon the world by the time Clarke sight of the massive structure of the Ark. High metal gates with wires were strung around the crashed structure and even from this distance Clarke could pick up on the distant sounds of humming voices and barking orders.

"The Ark made it to the ground," murmured Clarke in awe. She fleetingly forgot about her companion who came to stand beside her.

"Your people…can they crack the Mountain?" asked Anya. Her keen eyes were taking in the sight before her. Studying the landscape, memorizing details, committing to memory what was important.

"With your people's help Anya." Clarke reached out tentatively brushed her hand over the grounder leaders. "We need to speak with your commander."

Anya looked over Clarke for a second as if considering something. "The Commander was my second. I can get an audience." Her hand grasped Clarkes firmly.

"Thank you," Clarke said honestly.

"Do not thank me yet Clarke." Clarke shivered as she heard her name roll of Anya's lips. Lips that she had tasted and strangely wanted to taste again. She watched Anya's eyes glide over hers. They both leaned forward and sighed as their lips touched gently. Just the softest brushes. Clarke didn't comprehend why she was feeling like this. Anya was her enemy. She had tried to kill her and her people.

'But she also saved me,' thought Clarke as she pulled back from Anya's addictive lips. They waited. Then the grounder leader turned to leave.

"I don't know what this is," admitted Clarke softly, unsure of the flutters in her chest. Anya didn't falter or look back.

"Neither do I."

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**A pairing I've come to love and two characters I truly enjoy delving into. This will just be a collection of Clarke/Anya fictlets and oneshots. Some of them will be mine and others will be prompts. If you have anything you want to see send me a pm or what not. I'd be happy to write it out for you.**

**-Socks**


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